A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Eight
Spring-Summer, 1912
In the days and weeks that followed, Rose
settled into a new routine, one that kept her so busy that she had virtually no
time to dwell on her loss or her fear of being discovered. It wasn't so much
that her job was difficult, just time-consuming. At the finishing school she'd
attended, the girls were all taught the basics of housekeeping: how to sew,
make beds, use a washboard, and so on; and although Rose hadn't always paid
attention, she'd absorbed enough to do an adequate job.
Not that Bridie, who was charged with her
supervision, noticed.
"Lookee there," she would say,
stabbing a finger at a corner almost hidden behind a piece of furniture.
"A cobweb! Pretty soon we'll be seein' spiders."
Or she'd comment on Rose's appearance. She
took time every morning to examine the new chambermaid's uniform, which
consisted of a black blouse with a severe high-buttoned collar, a dark skirt
and a full-length white cotton apron with a matching cap. It was this part of
the job Rose despised the most.
"There's a stain on yer apron!" Bridie
gasped in horror during one morning inspection. "Go change at once!"
It was the third such reprimand in the space
of a month, and Rose had tired of it. She'd managed to rinse out most of the
spot, a gravy stain from the previous evening's dinner, and she was certain
that what remained was microscopic. She smiled as an idea suddenly occurred to
her.
"What's so funny?" Bridie demanded.
"Nothing," Rose said, adopting a
more serious expression. "I was just trying to picture myself wearing one
of your aprons."
"One of mine? That's ridiculous, I'm
much smaller than you...wait a minute, 'ave you run out of clean
uniforms?"
"I have," Rose said, "and
pardon me for saying so, but I only have two. I do apologize, but if Mrs. Scott
sees me out of uniform, she probably won't accept that explanation."
Bridie allowed Rose to go about her business.
No one else noticed the stain on her apron, but the very next day Bridie
sought--and received--permission to order another chambermaid uniform.
Rose worked every day except Sunday, and
every Sunday she would take the train into New York to visit Meg. She often
packed a basket full of treats from Arnolde's kitchen, and once Meg's shift at
the hospital ended, they would carry the food to Meg's or Bridie's and have a
feast. Like Meg, Patrick Quinn took an instant liking to Rose, and regaled her
with tales of his youthful exploits in Ireland and his journey to America on
the S.S. Anchoria, an immigrant ship, when Bridie was just a baby.
Rose lived for Sundays, for she had no other
friends. Victoria was her employer, and besides, she was spending more and more
time confined to her bed per her doctor's instructions. Randolph kept telling
Rose how much she reminded him of his own daughter, but she'd married and moved
out West and Rose had yet to meet her. Arnolde was much closer to her age, and
very friendly, but he spent much of his time off courting a lady friend in
town. It wouldn't have been appropriate for them to socialize outside of the
kitchen, anyway.
That left Evelyn, and she was no joy to be
around. Rose discovered that the first time the two of them were alone
together, and Evelyn complained incessantly about the children.
At five, Josephine was the Scott offspring
most in need of discipline, but she was by no means the one Rose disliked the
most. That dubious honor fell to her sister, Lucille. Lucy was only eleven, but
already she carried herself as one who knew her social standing. She was
arrogant, rude and bossy--qualities Rose instantly recognized, as someone who'd
grown up surrounded by people like her. Her mother, in particular.
Between the two girls was Richard, a
disruptive little brat who terrorized his sisters, his nanny, and some of the
other children at school as well. For his eighth birthday in May, his parents threw
him a party in the great room with some thirty young friends, neighbors and
cousins. They arrived in their Sunday best and were instructed to behave, but
by the time the afternoon was over, there were toys and other presents
scattered all over the floor, plates of half-eaten cake on top of the piano,
and Richard's new puppy, a gift from his mother and father, had left a mess of
his own. It took hours for Rose, Bridie, Evelyn, and the two extra maids who
were hired just for the occasion to clean up.
William III was a mystery. The
thirteen-year-old was seldom at home, and on those rare Saturdays when he came
home from school, he mainly kept to himself, reading a book in his room or
practicing on the piano. All of the children except Josephine were expected to
take lessons, but he was the only one who expressed any interest.
He was polite to Rose, and nothing more.
However, on more than one occasion, she'd feel someone watching her, and would
turn around to catch him staring. His dark, expressive eyes would dart away
guiltily, and he would excuse himself, but not before Rose saw what was in
those eyes.
When summer came, Rose expected to see more
of young William, but he spent much of his time either wandering off in the
woods alone or visiting friends from school. She overheard his father grumbling
about it one morning before leaving for work.
"I don't understand that boy of yours,
Victoria," he said. "At the crack of dawn he was begging Randolph for
a ride to the train station. Couldn't even wait to have breakfast with his
family."
"He misses his friends," Victoria
responded. "You should be happy he has so many friends now. Remember how
isolated he used to be before he went away to school?"
William snorted. "Well, if you ask me,
he went from one extreme to the other. Those friends of his are idle. They do
nothing but squander their parents' money. It's about time I had a talk with
him about coming to the office. He needs to learn the business."
"Give him some time," Victoria
urged. "He'll only be fourteen this summer. Let him have his fun."
It seemed that William caved in, for on his
fourteenth birthday in July, his son chose to attend the theater in New York
with friends instead of celebrating with his family.
Rose also marked a milestone in her life that
month--her eighteenth birthday. But she let it pass without telling anyone, not
even Meg. Anything anyone did for her would just be a painful reminder of the
grand parties thrown for her in years past. By now, she could have been Mrs.
Caledon Hockley. He had already been planning a festive dinner in her honor
before they left for Europe.
Thus passed the beginning of the summer, and
the month of August began the same way--routine and uneventful except for
Arnolde's departure for a two-week visit with his family in New Orleans.
Then, the first Saturday of the month, all
hell broke loose.